I was relaxing while smoking my pipe and sipping on a greyhound when I spied a figure walking toward me. I didn’t have my contacts in so they looked pretty fuzzy until they got closer.
Their jacket and jeans were covered in yellow stickers of flashlights. They wore ragged Converse high-tops, one red and one green, with separated soles that flip-flopped with every step. I couldn’t find any clue as to their gender, so I decided to use neutral pronouns. Another oddity was that they were placing those same yellow stickers on just about everything that was within arm’s length.
They approached me and plopped down in the chair next to me—without permission.
(Sticking out their hand to shake mine) I’m High—High Light.
(Shaking their hand) “I’m Randy, High. Nice to meet you.”
(Speaking loudly, popping my left shoulder, and slapping one of their stickers on my chest) Randy High. Cute name. Man! It’s a be-utiful day ain’t it, Chuckie.
(Looking disapprovingly at the sticker) “Yeah, sure is.”
I ain’t never been here before, Chuckie. Y’all got a nice little setup here.
“Yes. Yes we do. It’s a lovely little town.”
What ch’all known for, Chuckie?
“Writers, musicians, painters, one of the greatest bookstores in the entire USA, and such. The University of Mississippi, Ole Miss, is here and William Faulkner lived here and wrote novels. In fact, he won a Nobel Prize for his work. And my name is Randy, High, not Chuckie.”
Ain’t that novel, Randy High! A No-bell prize? Like no cowbells, huh? I ain’t never read no novel. I mostly read comic books.
“No doubt.”
(Picking their teeth) Thank ya’, Chuckie!
“You’re welcome, High. Now what’s with all these yellow flashlight stickers?”
Oh, that’s easy. Since my name is High Light I like to highlight as many things as I can. It’s a highlight here, a highlight there, here a light, there a light, everywhere a highlight. Ee i, ee i, o!
“And people are okay with that?”
Some are, some ain’t. But, hell, I don’t care if they’re okay with it or not. You must like the stickert. You’re still wearin’ yours.
“Just trying to be polite.”
(Popping bubble gum) Now ain’t you the nice one, Chuckie! Where else you think I otter put up some stickers?
(I wanted to say “Over your mouth and up you’re a**, butt…”) I’d like to see you put one on all four clock faces on the top of the courthouse.
Really?
“Really.”
Well shut my mouth!
(I held my tongue.)
I could do it if I had me a good long rope to lasso the top ‘a that thang.
“I’ll run down to Shaw’s Ace Hardware and get one for you if you want.”
Naw. Not today. I got the squirts.
(With that they blew a huge bubble with their gum. I ripped off my sticker and slapped it on the bubble, which immediately popped and covered their entire face, with the sticker planted firmly on their nose.)
You sure pulled the gum over my eyes, Chuckie! Now look, Chuckie, I gotta be on my way but I wanna leave you a stack a’ stickers so you can highlight a bunch a’ things.
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
Why? Don’t ya’ like ‘em?
“Frankly, I find all this highlighting crap annoying as hell. No offense, of course.”
None taken, Chuck. Not everybody’s taste is that re-find. Some folks hafta acquire it.
“Like possum, coon, and chitlins?”
Naw. I was borned likin’ them. Speakin’ of likin’, I like this place, Chuckie. I may just sticker ‘round a while. Get it, Chuckie? Sticker ‘round?
“Got it. You can stay as long as you like, High. Stick it as many times as you wish.”
Thank ya’, Chuckie. I believe I’ll do just that.
“See that you do.”
…and that’s the View from The Balcony.
Randy Weeks is a Licensed Professional Counselor, a Certified Shamanic Life Coach, an ordained minister, singer-songwriter, actor, writer, and a former triathlete. He plans to continue to “sticker ‘round,” sans highlighting. Randy may be reached at: randallsweeks@gmail.com.
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